


Cheers to that!

by Harker13



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Angry Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Consensual, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Guilt, M/M, Praise Kink, Shame, Suit Kink, Suits, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 14:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harker13/pseuds/Harker13
Summary: Kinktober 11. Formal wearKinktober 12. BitingKinktober 13. Dirty talkKinktober 14. Praise kinkFollowing the events of an unwinding night, the four men realize that keeping their feelings within four walls, once a month, is much more complicated than they imagined.





	Cheers to that!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masamune7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamune7/gifts).

> Once again, this is an accidental continuation of the last text - "You'll need that scarf later". But if you're a bit lazy to go and read that, the bottom line is that Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Greg have a polyamorous agreement on which, once a month, they get together to satisfy their kinks.
> 
> Thaaaaaaaank you so, so, so much for all your kind words and comments!
> 
> Ps. Be careful with tamarind vodka! Truuuust my words, I almost die once...

They sorted the idea of walking down a near bar and get some drinks and a proper meal for Sherlock. All agreed to stay together for a little longer than planned and celebrate how refreshed everyone felt. Lestrade had the marvelous idea of ordering a bottle of tamarind vodka; after listening to his young PC’s telling how they had almost ended up in the hospital after a party. Sounded fun and juvenile.

They clinked their shot glasses for the sixth time before bottoming up all of them.

_“Do our monthly recreational activities count as some sort of peculiar type of couple’s therapy?”_ – said Lestrade.

_“That’s difficult to tell; we’re hardly civil to each other besides those occasional meetings. Outside those four walls I need to keep making sure everyone still thinks I despise Sherlock, not that he makes it much harder …”_ – spoke Mycroft.

They cheered and made a toast, not for such a corky context as “friendship”, but for secrets and the peace of mind of having taken a weight off their chests. Four grown men taking care of their impulses. All of them being quite drunk when leaving the bar, but all too stubborn to admit it.

**\--- Lestrade & Mycroft**

_“Would you accept a lift home?” _– said the older Holmes while Lestrade lit a cigarette, gave it a puff and passed it to Mycroft who gracefully accepted and did the same.

_“Cheers, but I still need to get back to the Yard and collect some stuff, I’m working from home tomorrow. Someone’s going to repair the plumbing”- _

_“My offer applies to any location, Greg. I don’t know why I keep asking you every time if the decision’s been made beforehand”_ – Mycroft said while typing something in his phone – _“a car is on its way”._

Mycroft Holmes was the type of person not easily carried away by trivial eventualities, London’s weather was still unpredictable even for one of Britain’s greatest minds. The sky opened and it started pouring.

_“Great”_ – said annoyed. He opened his umbrella and covered Greg and himself while waiting for the car to arrive – _“These shoes are not made to cope with pouring rain … I think not even splashes…”_

_“These cost me £79.00 with 30% off”_ – grinned Lestrade while coquettishly waving his foot towards Mycroft.

_“Those are hideous”_

_“It’s part of the charm; we’re like “lady and the tramp” you’re the lady, by the way”- _snorted Greg.

_“How charming; should we set up a date for dinner so I can roll my meatballs all over you?”_ \- Mycroft looked at him with the corner of his eyes.

_“Is that a naughty proposal using child’s cartoons, Mr. Holmes?”_

_“I believe so, Detective Inspector … is it working?”_

_“Fucking hell, it is”_ – said a grinning Lestrade as a black car parked just next to them and he opened the door for Mycroft – _“let me hold that for you, your majesty … we don’t want your posh shoes to spoil more than needed. C’mon, jump in”._

As Mycroft did so, Greg took the chance to peek on how good his arse looked in that black suit. The car started moving and they sat in silence for about two seconds before pulling each other into a frantic, desperate kiss.

Greg stroke Mycroft’s back inside his jacket; what the hell was the fabric this guy’s suits were made of? Goddammed Holmes’ and their perfectly tailored suits who just happen to ignite Greg’s deepest desires. Mycroft smelled of incense cologne. He couldn’t keep touching Mycroft all over; they hunted for each other’s mouths as they merged in a dance of entwined limbs and moans.

Mycroft started to undress himself.

_“No, don’t take it off! I feel I’m about to fuck the Prime Minister”- _said a panting Greg.

_“Don’t you mean “make love”?”_

_“Not a chance, love; I most definitely prefer for you to suck my cock in more non-biblical ways”._

Mycroft held the gaze on Greg before shouting the driver – _“TAKE ANOTHER ROUTE! THE LONGEST YOU KNOW! I might throw up all over your … precious … manhood … but it is a risk I’m willing to take”_ \- and immersed himself in Lestrade’s crotch, undoing his trousers and pulling down his pants; it was already leaking.

He took all of it in his mouth and couldn’t help at gasping when the car made an aggressive turn and he held on the first thing at his reach … partly to keep balance, partly because it was the perfect opportunity to do it; and Mycroft Holmes wasn’t a man who missed opportunities.

_“Did you just …?”_ – said a surprised Greg.

_“No!”_ – said Mycroft starting to get blushed.

_“Mycroft … did you just … bit my prick?”_

_“Oh that!”_ – Mycroft sat back next to Greg; trying to ease the wrinkles in his suit – _“Perhaps I got a bit carried away; I apologizes is not somet…”_

_“Do it again”_ – said Greg, dead serious.

Mycroft looked perplexed.

_“Ok, let me rephrase it. Please do THAT again; but this time us more teeth at the base, not the tip”_

Both started jiggling at the stupidity of the whole situation. Mycroft didn’t recall the last time he had laughed so much; his eyes were teary, and he had to cough back a few more giggles before being able to breath. Their amusement was interrupted by the car pulling over at the Yard, and the driver opening Lestrade’s door.

_“I’m afraid it will have to be in another moment, Detective Inspector”_ – a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

_“Bloody hell, Holmes! You owe me one!”_ – said while stepping out of the car.

_“Good night, tramp”_ – said a still giggling Mycroft while pulling up the car window.

Lestrade kept walking toward the building while giving him a middle finger. He didn’t turn back. Both men had to admit they hadn’t had much fun in ages.

**\--- Sherlock & John**

They decided to take a cab to Baker Street for the sake of their safety and to pick up a few things John still hadn’t retrieved. As they got to the flat, a very drunk Sherlock Holmes tried miserably to hit the key in the lock, until a very exasperated John snatched it and opened it himself.

_“I almost had it!”_ – Sherlock fought.

_“And I need to take a piss!” – _responded John.

_“Oh! Me too! I’ll GO FIRST!” -_ and Sherlock sprinted up the flat almost making John stumble down the stairs, running to lock himself in their old joined bathroom.

_“You, bastard! I’m gonna pee your fucking rug, inconsiderate git!”_

_“It was our rug, John! It could still be if you haven’t abandoned me for another … woman!” – _Sherlocks shouts were echoed by the sound of him pissing.

_“Brilliant! That’s utterly, fucking, brilliant! So now you’re the one who blames me for getting on with my life while you were playing hide and seek for two years, not letting me know because you were too bloody afraid of me OVERREACTING!! GUESS WHAT?! I WOULD’VE NEVER OVERREACTED!”- _John realized he was definitely overreacting.

The sound of water being flushed, and the door opening could’ve made John’s rant to stop but were Sherlock’s words what caught him completely off guard.

_“You know what, John?! Perhaps it was a “suicide”, but nevertheless… everyone needs to die of love at least once!_” – Sherlock seemed about to throw up, not sure if by means of the alcohol or his own words _– “where the hell did that come from?”_

_“Love? How fucking dare you …?”_ – John froze for a second – _“Do you ha… do you have any idea of how I try to cope, every day, with the fact that I wake up every-morning next to Mary and not by your side? Do you have any idea about how many times I’ve been tempted by the idea of running out in the middle of the night to look for you? To run up these stairs … knowing if I open the door, you’ll be sitting in the middle of the living room sorting trough old evidence… with chopped ears in the fridge and … mold below the sink?_

Sherlock could only stare at John’s broken self.

_“I had a nightmare … last night, it actually not a nightmare … just a recurrent dream”_

He started, never looking away from Sherlock.

_“I’m with Mary, we’re at home and she’s sleeping, I can’t manage to keep laying down, so I leave the house for a second … just to get some fresh air. Suddenly, you arrive in a black car, you’re driving. You don’t need to say anything for me to hop in with you. We pull over in a parking lot near Hyde Park and I kiss you. I take your face in my hands and kiss every bruise on your neck … every tiny scar on your lips … every trace of pain you’ve ever felt, I try to make it go away. _

_But I know I’m dreaming, and I know I may be calling your name… so I try to wake up; to convince myself it’s not real … and I let you go. I abandon you like did to me. So, I run, I run back “home” trying to wake up, trying to forget all the things I secretly want to do to you. _

_And it’s not her fault that I fell for you … it’s me. It’s pathetic old me.”_

Sherlock approached him slowly, John was looking down at the floor, too ashamed to look back at the penetrating gaze of the detective.

_“What do you want to do to me?”_ – said Sherlock as he wrapped his arms around John’s neck.

_“Don’t …”_ \- John shut his eyes.

_“What else do you dream of?”_ – Sherlock whispered.

_“Stop … I can’t …”_ \- he tried to pull off Sherlock’s grip.

Sherlock passed one arm around John’s waist and the other grabbed his hair possessively, nuzzling at his neck without breaking the embrace, sniffing every single part of the crook of John’s neck.

John pulled back his head closing his eyes, leaving both arms hanging stiffly at his sides. He was determined not to fall into his own desires, this wasn’t a safe space anymore; there wasn’t an agreement for things keep happening outside their meeting locations when the four of them were together, watching each other’s back, keeping each other’s secrets.

This was just Sherlock and him like old times, just that now … even when he was resisting, his cock wasn’t cooperating that much, succumbing to Sherlock’s touch.

_“What do you want?”_ – John could’ve come in that instant just by the deep tone in Sherlock’s voice.

_“Stop, please …_” - his heart was racing at the urgency.

_“What do you want, John?_” – he stroked all the way down from John’s back to squeeze his arse. Never leaving the hold on John’s head tilting it a little so he would have full access to his neck. He kept purring near John’s carotid.

What. Do. You. Want. John… Watson?

John let out a sigh he didn’t feel was holding.

_“I want to fuck you right now”_ – he let out a deeper sigh and hugged Sherlock’s wait _– “I want to fuck you all over the flat. Everywhere. Grab you and stomp you over the table, rip your clothes off … make you come in my mouth, over and over, until I know you’re almost drowning in my spill.”_

_“Keep going”_ – said Sherlock in a sensual whisper, while strapping his legs around John’s torso letting the doctor carrying him wherever he wanted.

John kissed Sherlock’s chest wildly while holding him and pressing his back against the wall.

_“I want to strap you naked to the window so every dull pedestrian can look how I penetrate every single one of your holes. I want to hear you screaming my name asking me for more, until your mere shaky breath is all you can give me”_

Sherlock was on the verge of coming, his release was distracted by the sound of his own body being smashed against the dinning table.

_“Fuck … sometimes I want to hurt you just to take care of you after that, treat your wounds … while licking all over your naked body; your bloody perfect silky skin and fucking gorgeous cheekbones. How I adore you, you damn fuckwit”_

_“Are you mad?” – _asked Sherlock

_“I’m bloody furious”_

That was Sherlock’s sign on how to cope with John’s desires. This was an “all in” bet.

_“Ok John, enough of that. I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain you how to fuck me; so that will do … think you can manage to make me come without bore me to death … again?”_

_“What?!”_ – John’s rage was irradiating from him.

_“If a God exists, it surely has an awful sense of humor for making me wait this longer for you to just fuck me … I believe alcohol in the bloodstream decreases the sexual power in men over …”_ \- a hand grabbed him by the neck while pulling down his pants.

Sherlock held on John’s arm holding his neck, while John’s other hand ventured into Sherlocks mouth to lubricate itself.

_“I used to think you may HAVE taken my breath away but now, I just realized I was asphyxiating on your bullshit!”_ – and slid his fingers into Sherlocks hole, a mere and minimal consideration before sliding his own pumping prick inside him.

_“I think it’s passed your bedtime, are you tired already?”_ – moaned Sherlock while moving his hips at the same rhythm of John’s thrusts _– “Keep banging me on the damn table! Harder!”_

_“Why don’t you ever shut up?!”_ – John shouted.

_“Because you keep letting me use your cock as a microphone! Is that all you got? Christ, John … your mother should’ve swallowed you”_

And that phrase was all it took for John Watson to come inside Sherlocks, filling both with waves of pleasure.

_“You, utterly … twat… fucking arsehole …”_ \- he laughed _– “I love you so much”_

Sherlock laughed as well, tangled in a mess of feels and wrinkled clothes.

_“C’mere, I’m not done with you yet”_ – and led John to sit in his old chair, while he sat at the floor between John legs, parting them to get a clearer view of the doctor’s need.

John sit and lifted Sherlock face to him.

_“My refractory period is not that short…”_ \- he laughed.

_“I know, you’re a naughty old man looking to steal some of my youth …”_

_“Oi! I’m not that much older than you …”_ \- he was going to keep arguing but was interrupted by the sigh of a gasping Sherlock Holmes slowly stroking himself right in front of him. How could he look even more beautiful than a minute ago? His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted and was resting his head on one of John’s thigs.

_“Why are you blushing?” – _asked John.

_“John…”_ \- he said through little gasps – _“remember my words as I allow tamarind vodka to cloud my judgment…” _\- and closed his eyes for a second before looking back straight to John’s eyes.

_“My life has been miserable by the sole idea of picturing you with someone else, you’ve had my cold and presumably inexistent heart in your possession since the day you loved me for who I am and not the freak everyone else look in me…”_

He shifted a bit, closing his eyes and resting his head more comfortably in John’s tight letting the reassuring hand of the doctor to stroke his hair

_“I’ve never asked anything from you, simply because I don’t have the right and because”_ – another moan left his throat while stroking himself a bit faster – _“I’m the one who owes you so much… and I’m willing to love you forever in silence if that’s the only way we could be together …”_

He was on the verge of coming, struggling to match words.

John held his head between his hands and kiss down Sherlock’s pain away, preventing him to keep up with the speech but letting him get his much sought-after release.

Sherlock collapsed at the John’s feet.

Smiling.

_“I love you too, John Watson”._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh! ... and happy birthday, Azi :)


End file.
